things you didn’t say at all + adam JUST FOR THE LOLS
i) maybe it’s the heat, but i think i have feelings for you.
a week into the holiday and hector was lapping up every awed gasp and excited smile from adam as they perused ruins. he felt like a child at christmas every morning knowing that he could show the classicist around new parts of greece and engage in thought-provoking discussions about matters they were both expert in. and in this moment, they’re standing in front of the parthenon. adam surveys the landscape – white buildings clinging to the hills, patches of greenery, other temples on the site. hector has his hands in his pockets and watches his friend’s reaction. such purity and wonder! he laughs, but it catches in his throat when ridiculously perfect eyes direct all of that happiness on him. their gaze locks, hector’s heart skips, and words bounce off his teeth. uncertainty kills the sentiment. he looks away with a smile. the white marble is splendid, but adam might not feel for him as he might. so the confession remains unsaid, and the ruins aren’t given more gossip to absorb for eternity.
ii) feel free to join me.
they’re good friends now, even in so short a time. but a trip away would do that to anyone, wouldn’t it? so much time in only each other’s company is bound to foster a closeness that could otherwise be gained over at least a year of talking on and off. but they’re two men forged from the same piece of metal. two pearls from the same oyster. hector hadn’t met anyone in centuries who quite matched his soul. every conversation was enjoyable, even when it was about nothing. they sat on the porch in their chairs, drinking whiskey or wine, and talking of this or that. often both. sometimes silence would overcome them, but it wasn’t awkward. always comfortable. they tease sometimes. hector more so, but he’s always been a flirt. as he stands to announce that he’ll take a shower, another sentence pops into mind. he glances down to his company. his beautiful, sun-kissed company. maybe it’s good fortune that adam turns to return the stare. something stirs in his chest and he’s sure it isn’t the alcohol. it’s desire, pure and simple. he knows if he adds the offer to join him, that he’d mean it. god knows it’s taking every bit of strength that he has not to straddle the poor man where he sits and— he doesn’t let himself go into any detail on this train of thought. the words remain unsaid.
i write in a flurry. nothing has happened to me, but i have a horrible feeling something might have happened to you. ??? see, i mentioned that i have nightmares, but sometimes i can’t tell where reality lies. it’s nothing dramatic, i suppose. i don’t see demons. but i do see worst case scenarios. i dreamed that you’d died in greece, right when we seemed our most happy. i hope this is a dream, my friend, and not something worse. it’s just gone 3am and i don’t think i’ll go back to sleep. maybe this is just me documenting my dream like you suggested. what does it mean that i dreamed your demise? nothing, i hope. i feel so scattered and agitated by it. i’ll send this note in the morning as supplement to my last letter, and if you’re quite alright, don’t bother replying. your next letter will be suffice, and by that time i might have forgotten this terrible nightmare. if i still can’t tell, and this letter reaches you, don’t you dare feel guilty. i can see you worrying over it now. please don’t. i suppose i’d rather you’re distressed instead of dead, but i can’t stand the thought of negative feelings on my account. maybe i shouldn’t send this. i’ll make up for it in my next letter. i’ll be extra pleased when i get something from you now. oh, fine, if i won’t send this maybe i can speak freely. i’m sure you’re well. i’m fine. i died the other day for a minute, so maybe that prompted my dream. it makes sense now. i thought about you when i woke up, isn’t that ridiculous? i thought about how cruel it would be if that was the last time i died, and i didn’t even get to say goodbye to you. i believe in reincarnation, it helps me cope. i think i’ll meet my soulmates again and again and again. i’m sure i’ve met you before, we get along too well to have been strangers at the start of this year. but i don’t think i’d get reincarnated. the thought makes me want to cry. i just want to rest, adam, my love. i’m a ghost. i should be somewhere else, but instead i’m forced to wander. i’d miss you terribly, though. i miss you now. i ache thinking of every second i could have heard your voice when we were together. how did i last a month or so without you at all? i’m rather dependant, love. once i like someone, there’s an urgency in me that makes me want to show it all at once. but i like you rather too much, so i don’t want to risk losing you if you don’t feel the same for me. you do stir me in your letters, though. maybe if you’re bored, and you want someone to love you, you might think of me. i’d love you, and love you, and love you. you’re entirely wonderful. writing this has calmed me, even if i do feel lonely now. thinking of you has helped. i’m sure you’re well, so i won’t even let myself look at this letter again. i think i can go back to sleep now.
adam’s next reply arrives later that day – even more promptly than usual. this note gets folded in among the stack adam has sent to him, as a reminder of adam’s morality. as something to ponder over in the future. it’s a short note, it worries him at first. then it doesn’t. adam’s words echo his own, and hector feels that he could do anything in the world. he could fly. oh, it’s so lovely to be loved in return. sweet, pure happiness. hector doesn’t post this note, and its contents remain unread.
